East City District, Rui Zhu Hotel, seventh floor, inside a certain suite.
In the pitch-dark room, a figure with his upper body bare and both his head and legs wrapped in bandages, sat in a chair, continuously flicking ashes from his cigarette.
Amidst the swirling smoke, the faint light filtering through the gaps in the curtains revealed a gloomy male face.
It was indeed a member of the Razor Gang, a disciple from the Golden Wind Dojo, Duan Kaiping.
His gaze shifted toward a corner of the room, his expression fluctuating uncertainly.
There stood a rectangular object about two meters long and one meter wide, upright in the corner of the room, completely wrapped in circles of black tape, obscuring whatever was inside.
Occasionally, there would come rustling and clicking noises from within, inexplicably sending chills down one's spine.
Duan Kaiping stared at the rectangular object with a terrified gaze, took out his phone, and made a call.
The call was quickly connected.
"..."
